Stories told on porches in the night are the food that feeds our souls. A porch is a stepping off place, where girls kiss their parents goodbye and disappear into an adventure,where moms wait to hear their stories when they come home.It' a place where laughter drowns out the crickets, where friends become family. C'mon up to my porch, pull up a chair and tell me your story. We'll weave it into the quilt that wraps us up when life is cold.

Sunday, October 5, 2008

still trying

This is a whole new roll down the hill over here.Like the new kid at the party, I am looking for people I knowI'm not the kind whoruns into the room yelling"Here I am!"I'm more the"There you are!" type.So where are you?Today is my MIL's 85th birhtday.She is about 4foot 11 inches of feisty woman.She could probably run me down if she had to!She has 9 kids adn more grandkids than I can figure up in my head right nownot to mention great grand kids and general hangers-on.Oughta be a party.Counting Candles,Marti

10 comments:

Delighted to see you on this side of the blogsphere hon! I'm impressed with how many of us have managed to find one another from the community. It's so nice to have you here with me, I would of missed you. The longer I'm here, the more I'm like Blogger better than AOL. It's a lot of hit and miss till you learn the ropes. But once you do, it's easy as pie. (Hugs)Indigo